In Treatment
by Drumboy100
Summary: After a couple years of marriage, Ron and Hermione realize that they need outside help to learn how to spend their life together despite major personality differences. Inspired by JK's statement last year that Ron and Hermione might need wizard marriage counseling...


"Harry!"

I couldn't believe the little-girl screech came from my own mouth, especially since I saw Harry regularly at the Ministry anyway, but it was Christmas after all. I ran to the fireplace, hopping over random toys scattered across the Burrow floor, to dust off Floo powder as Harry ducked into the living room.

Laughing, he brushed my hands away and pulled me into a bear hug. "It's my sister-in-law-in-law!" he teased. "What can I help with?"

I groaned, turning to look imploringly at our mother-in-law once again. "Come on, Molly, please, now you have two wands at the ready. Can't we help with _anything_ to prepare for Christmas dinner?"

"You can help my exiting the premises until I'm ready," Molly answered, shooing us out. "The family is getting bigger, but I can still prepare everything all on my lonesome."

We knew better than to argue, so took our conversation out to the back porch. "As in, she believes that if she wants something done right, she should do it herself," I added in a whisper.

"Exactly," Harry agreed. "Where the hell's my wife?"

"With my husband, they'll be back soon. The siblings are all going in together for Molly and Arthur's Christmas present, and it turns out there was some procrastination involved." I rolled my eyes. "Harry, how are you? Are you sure you're not working too hard?"

"No, I'm not sure of that, but how about you? I think we have the same addictive personality, Hermione, and when we get started on a project we can't stop. But let's not talk about work, it's the holidays." Harry narrowed his eyes, focusing on me. "I know Christmas tends to be hard for you."

I sighed, joining him at the railing to gaze at the garden gnomes making their usual nuisance. "You have a way of seeing through me, Harry. Ever since the war, it's like…Christmas feels forced sometimes. After seeing such evil in the world, going back to happy caroling and presents, putting on a face of innocence when now we know what the world is capable of…"

Harry raised his eyebrows. I immediately realized my faux pax. I hurriedly put a hand on his arm.

"I'm being insensitive, Harry, I'm sorry. You grew up with miserable Christmases, and now that you're happily married, each year gets better. It's just that after the war, my innocence left. My worldview changed, there's no going back, and I feel that even more acutely at Christmas."

Harry gave me a small, closed-lipped smile, and put a comforting arm around me. "I hear you, we've all seen enough to last us"—

The door opened and closed behind us. We casually turned our heads to see who had joined us on the porch.

George stood still, his greeting dead before it was uttered. He gazed at us quizzically.

It happened in an instant. Harry and I realized what was wrong, and Harry dropped his arm to his side awkwardly, too obviously. I swore to myself, angry with Harry for contributing to the misunderstanding.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean—" George began.

"We were, uh, we were talking about the war," Harry said hurriedly. "Sometimes it's tough around the holidays."

"Yeah, I totally understand," George said. "I'll let you talk, all us siblings just got home so dinner's on in five." He gave a weak smile and went back inside.

" _Damn_ it!" Harry growled. "Hermione…this only reinforces that…I'm sorry, I want to be there for you, but I can't be your go-to person when you want to talk about Voldemort. It wasn't just me with you in the woods. There's another person that was there with us. And you're right, I don't understand about lost innocence and holidays getting worse, but there is someone who does. Someone with a happy childhood, like you, and then suddenly war was thrust upon him, and love."

I frowned. "Are you talking about Ron? Harry, I've talked to Ron ad nauseum about all of this—"

"Really? Lately?"

I felt dizzy somehow, like this moment couldn't be happening. "What are you talking about?" And then, with more force: "Wait, has Ron been complaining about me?"

"No!" he said vehemently. "But I am friends with both of you, and I do work with him every day at the ministry. We've got to get inside, but—Hermione, I'm just saying that it's weird. You and Ron have always bickered, but the past few months, it's like…think about it. You've been going to Luna's, working long hours, and what was up with that trip that you took to your parents' by yourself?"

I took a deep breath. I tried to speak, and took another deep breath instead. Then I gasped, "I can't think about this now or I will not be able to get through this dinner. But thank you—I'm not mad—"

I ducked into the Burrow and made a beeline for my husband, planting a firm kiss on the lips. Some of the conversation stopped, and someone clapped. I pulled away and saw that Ron had a surprised, pleased expression on his face, and I was able to relax, dropping ungracefully into the seat next to him.

"Merry Christmas to you too," he whispered. "Wait till you see what we got her, it's unbelievable." I put a hand on his thigh, hoping that he wouldn't feel the trembling. He gripped my hand firmly in return.

I barely made it through the meal, choking down the obligatory minimum amount of food, smiling and laughing whenever anyone else did. What had Harry been talking about? My relationship with Ron had never been better, we were fighting less than we ever had in our entire relationship. We slept together all the time, and I was less critical…

…because we spent less and less time together, and I wasn't confiding much in him because I knew he wouldn't understand anyway.

I choked on my butterbeer, which fortunately went unnoticed because Bill had just rolled in a fondue fountain with flying marshmallows that had to be caught like snitches before dunked and eaten. It created from a new muggle contraption, so Arthur had to tinker with it to figure out how it worked, but it still used enough homemade magic so Molly could use it at parties…a perfect Christmas present. If only my food would stay down.

"Make my excuses, honey, okay?" I whispered to Ron. He frowned at me, nodding, his eyes glazed, on his way to tipsy. I left everything, attempting to sneak upstairs despite interested eyes following my steps. I hurried faster.

Hphphphp

I fell into a fitful sleep, plagued by the usual dreams of Fred's death, Snape's death, little Colin's death. I jerked myself awake, covered in sweat. The house was silent, but Ron was not lying beside me. I crept to the bathroom across the hall, swigging some water to rid the metallic aftertaste of the dream.

There were voices coming from downstairs. I couldn't hear the words, but the tones sounded urgent, stressed. I recognized my husband's voice…and had an idea that would make him proud.

Entering the room that Fred and George grew up in, I headed straight for the "secret" stash and took what I needed. Returning to the top of the stairs, I gradually lowered an Extendable Ear.

"Really? On Christmas Day, all of you?" Ron said angrily, but I was adept at sensing the strong edge of emotional pain in his voice.

"It's not technically Christmas anymore, and I have to leave first thing in the morning," I heard George respond firmly. "It's now or never."

"We're not telling you what to do, Ron," Bill added. "All we're saying is that we think something is wrong. I've been married a lot longer than you and let me tell you, marriage is an adjustment, but you've only been married a couple of years. You should still be at the end of the honeymoon phase, and you look like you're having a midlife crisis instead."

"So you're saying that I'm…I'm not man enough to be able to make my wife happy." Ron's anger was drowned by his fear. His voice shook.

"No, like hell we are _not_ saying that," I heard Harry snarl. "That was a lie perpetuated by Voldemort five and a half years ago, and I refuse to allow you to start believing it again. But you two _do_ need to change the way you're communicating or this blip in your relationship will become a permanent scar."

"Okay, okay, I'm listening," Ron said, and dragged in a long, slow breath. "I promise I'll talk to her, okay? I'll be better, I'll ask how her day was, I'll help more around the house—"

"That's a start—" Bill began.

"I can't take any more, not tonight, you guys! I'm going to bed, let me pay you for our part in Mom and Dad's present, here…what is that…bloody hell…oh, no…oh, _God_ …" I jumped as I heard a terrific crash, then my husband bellowing swear words.

"Muffliato!" George hissed, pointing his wand in the direction of the stairs I was on, and I froze in terror.

Silence descended, and I yanked the ear back toward me, running to return it to its hiding spot. I guiltily returned to the top of the stairs, knowing that I had been found out. My face burned, and my heart pounded as I tried to digest the fact that the whole family believed that my marriage was a failure, and that I wasn't even sure what my own opinion on that was.

But no one approached. Swallowing, I headed slowly downstairs. Embarrassment washed over me once again as I tentatively peered around the corner.

My eyes widened in shock at the scene. My husband was crying openly now, leaning against the wall while George, Harry, and Bill tried to intervene. Ron's features contorted into hysteria, pushing them all aside. Moving closer, I saw the contents of my purse scattered across the living room floor. Emotions wild and confused, I forced myself to step through the silencing charm, interrupting the cries and curses and chaos—

" _Ron_! What is going on?"

Ron gazed in disbelief into my face, his cheeks wet, clutching something in his hand. "Not here," he whispered, looking in trepidation at the others. "Hermione, let's go home, we have to talk—"

"What's that in your hand?" I reached forward and grabbed it. Ron hid his face in his hands.

It was a business card that had been in my purse. It was the name and phone number of a prestigious wizarding divorce attorney.

I have been told that sometimes, when I am overcome with emotion, my features tend to slacken from too much overload. So perhaps George thought I didn't comprehend the situation, as he then tried to explain. "Hermione, Ron was reaching in your purse for money to pay me his share for the fondue present, when he saw—"

"You complete _arse_ , Ronald Weasley!" I screamed, beating my fists against Ron's chest. "In front of half the family!"

"Me?" Ron adopted the wounded-dog look that used to be endearing, but now spawned my contempt. "What did _I_ do?"

"Hey!" Harry easily pulled me off. "Hermione, what's going on?"

"That is a client that I am interviewing for one of my cases!" I screamed, tears of frustration prickling the corners of my eyes. "I was hoping to sneak away and interview them today."

Understanding dawned, and Harry, Bill, and George looked calmer, and then very awkward.

Ron gaped at me in shock, then literally sagged with relief, forcing Harry to move over and hold him up. "Oh my god, Hermione," he groaned. "The scare of my life…"

I shoved him, hard. Harry gave me a look of exasperation as the two of them almost fell over the furniture. "The fact that you would instantly think...that you think I would just run away from everything…like that's the kind of person that I am…and especially that I have to _constantly_ reassure your pathetic lack of self-esteem! I effing marry you and that's _still_ not enough proof! _Please_ be a man and—"

Ron turned his face away from me.

"Hermione," Harry snapped, standing between me and Ron, "you know full well that comment is calculated to wound where it hurts him the most. I'm glad that you two are at least talking openly again, but you two really need to work out a healthy style of relating to one another."

I stared over their heads, deeply embarrassed. Harry's words settled onto the group. Bill's words broke the silence.

"It's nobody's goal to humiliate you two tonight. You both have unseen battle scars, as do we all. Therefore this incident will not be spoken of again…"

Bill moved toward Ron, forcing his brother to make eye contact with him.

"If you both agree to get some help."


End file.
